


Taste the Gay

by KnightlyErrand



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: (I'm actually not), Has anyone made this before, I'm Sorry, M/M, Skittles, Store AU, because seriously, okay, this title makes me happy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 21:41:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1485070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnightlyErrand/pseuds/KnightlyErrand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco, at 24, has opened his own confectionary shop. It's pretty popular, and he enjoys working there immensely, even if it is a little low on employees. He's been openly gay for a long time now, and seeing the problems his other gay friends have gone through, he promises himself he would never like or date a straight guy. This, unfortunately, is thrown out the window the minute Jean Kirchstein walks into the store. Marco certainly can't keep his eyes off him, even if he is (supposedly) straight.</p>
<p>Shop AU Marco/Jean</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taste the Gay

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the titles comes from the Skittles logo, taste the rainbow, and no, I'm not sorry. This will likely be ridiculous. I try. 
> 
> Pervy Marco is pervy. In my defense, you never hear his thoughts in either the anime or manga, so maybe when he's sitting next to Jean, he's like, "look at that ass man, you could fight titans alone with that" so yeah.

Marco loved working in his shop. He owned a cute, little plot of land in the district city, and he had turned it into a sweets store when he got it from a nice old man. Pixis had been retiring from owning his brandy shop. Surprisingly, there had been few buyers, even at such a great location. There had been a recession at the time, but Marco had been saving his money since he left college. So he bought it for a very good price, and he was extremely happy with it, even though there were some remnants of the alcohol store it once was, like the great, sloping, built-in barrels in the employees only back section. He used them now to store his cartons of candy and chocolate.

He had always loved cooking, even when he was a child. He and his mother, when his father wasn't home, would spend hours making their own recipes for sweets. Sometimes they worked out, sometimes they didn't. Either way, it was the best thing he ever did in his childhood, and even past that. When he was in high school, he was teased for loving to bake, but he couldn't help it. He was pretty good, and he eventually got into a good cooking college. He specialized in confectionary, graduated, and now here he was, three years later, working at his own shop.

He had a part-time worker come in once a week, a pretty, fresh out of college girl named Petra. She was wonderful and helpful. She didn't even mind he was gay when he told her. Thankfully, many of the people who came to the store knew and didn't care. He had some frightful experiences in the past, from grandmas coming straight from church to buy for their grandchildren, back when he still had a boyfriend, and them coming in to the two of them kissing or hugging. He thought he was going to get murdered or something, with the "rot in hell" they spouted.

But most people were nice, and he was extremely grateful for it. His immediate family was great in the fact they didn't care at all about his sexuality, but his extended, especially his mother's side, didn't even want him in their houses. He supposed he might pollute them and spread the gay. Considering so many thought it was a disease anyways.

But now he had broken up with his boyfriend. It hadn't been bad exactly, but both had been looking for something different. Marco had never truly liked someone before, but he didn't really get much of a choice who to date. The amount of gay or bisexual people in the world were few, even with more youths coming out. And though he lived in the city, he hadn't found anyone he liked yet. The one guy he dated had liked someone else, someone straight. Marco couldn't imagine what that'd be like. They were best friends too. It might've actually been physical torture. Marco had vowed after seeing Reiner, his boyfriend, go through everything that came with a straight boy, to never like someone like that. No matter who they might be. He considered straight boys off limits, and would stick to that rule with his life and honor.

That is, until a boy with tawny hair and blazing eyes came storming through the door and asked for a peppermint candy cane, despite it being the middle of July. Marco began to reconsider his foremost rule in life. Certainly the boy was straight, just look at those jeans. They were cut to frame the boy's -ahem- delicious ass, but not too cut. Cut just enough to say, "I'm straight, but delicious". 

Marco wasn't a perverted person by any means. He liked to consider himself as someone with great restraint and -holy shit, the boy was licking the candy cane with slow, agonizing stripes and Marco just couldn't. He was doing it even before he paid, right in front of him. Who did that? No seriously, Marco was going to get a boner and have to go through the rest of the day and it was only noon, and it was the boy's fault for not waiting until he left or went and sat down at the store's booths, far away from the counter. 

There was some number of people in the room here and Marco just couldn't believe the boy was doing this to him. He was certainly straight. Goddammit, he was straight, because now the boy was reaching into his pocket, sliding into it, and it was tight against his hand, bringing out his wallet, and Marco imagined sliding his own hand into those jeans.

"Here's your change," Marco prayed to any deity there was his voice wasn't choked. It was. 

"Ah, thanks," the boy's voice was low and sultry, and Marco wished he hadn't paid in cash because he really wanted to know his name.

He made a weird little sound, and the boy looked at him strangely. Marco would too. He had no idea what was wrong with him. "I'm so sorry," I'm so weird, and please don't pay me any mind, and I'm just gonna go sit in a corner; Marco's thoughts ran around and around.

"It's no problem," the boy looked worried, which was a bad look for him, or by bad look it made Marco want to pounce him and nibble on his neck and ear until he could do nothing but shake kind of look. "Are you okay? You don't look so hot."

You do, Marco could only think. Goddamn do you. "Uh, yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

"Is there anyone else who could take over?" Why was this boy taking such an interest in him. Not that he minded, not at all. He'd be fine if the boy took more of an interest, an interest that led them both to Marco's bedroom tonight.

Marco would've liked to say he valued personality far more than looks, but one glance at this person and he was a salivating and horny teenager. It had been a while since he'd last done it, and he was kind of pent up, but it was no excuse for using this poor, straight boy as masturbation material, which he'd totally be doing in bed tonight. Alone. Without that pert ass to keep him company.

Hold it together, Marco, hold it together.

By now, some customers in the back had begun to complain, but the boy still looked dazed. One of them finally broke through, "What are you even doing up there? Jesus Christ, it's one order. Is this place incompetent?"

Marco scrambled and began to apologize furiously, but the boy rounded on the man, "Listen here, this is my fault, not his. I was asking about whether he felt okay, so why don't you take that attitude and shove it up your ass."

The customer stormed out, apparently too angry for words. The boy looked sheepish, "I'm really sorry, I'm going to sit down now. I lost you a customer and shit. I mean, and crap. You probably don't like cursing. Sorry. Uh, I mean, unless you don't want me here. Shit, crap, that was a really weird thing to say… We just met and stuff. Fuck, um, crap, I'm sorry, I'm going to sit down before I make more of a fool of myself."

Marco would be fucked if that wasn't the cutest thing he'd ever heard said. He nodded in sort of a daze, and the boy finally moved out of the way, sitting down at the closest table to the counter. He could watch Marco directly, and soon he began to feel the effects, his face and other areas heating up, as he helped the next customer.

"You're such a good boy," a nice grandma patted his cheek. She was a regular, and Marco always gave her a discount. "Is that your new boyfriend?" she knew he was gay as well, and Marco, while normally appreciating it, cursed it as she nodded towards the boy. His face couldn't have gotten redder.

"No, no, he's not. I just met him," Marco couldn't help but stammer as the boy's liquid eyes found his.

"Ah, well, young folks have to move fast, don't they?" she chuckled.

"Mrs. Fubar!" he tried to admonish, but she dodged, with, "My grandson just got a boyfriend a few months back, you know. I'm so glad, I thought he'd never date anyone after his mother's divorce. The young man he's courting is just so nice, although he's quite huge!"

Marco's interest couldn't help but be peaked, "Your grandson's Bertolt, right?" it was the boy Reiner had liked, who had also been his best friend. 

"Yes," she crooned, as old ladies are wrought to do, "Those two, him and his friend, should have been together much sooner if you ask me! It took them far too many years of them messing around!"

Marco was certain she meant Reiner, and he couldn't help but feel a little betrayed he never told him, although he didn't particularly blame him. They were still friends after they broke off right before high school graduation, but they had never been as close friends as they had been lovers. Marco could see why he wouldn't have wanted to tell him, the ex-boyfriend he was. He mostly felt happy for the perfect couple. They would be really happy together.

Mrs. Fubar continued, having not noticed Marco's connection dwindle, as old ladies are also wrought to do, "They're going to get married in October! Isn't that wonderful. It's the perfect month for the two of them. Not too hot or cold, and just unusual enough to be memorable."

Married! Reiner had better send him an invitation. Bertolt had known the two of them dated, but it seemed they didn't mention to anyone else. Marco hoped that didn't mean that he would indeed not be invited.

By this time, people were starting to get angry again, and a voice burst out, "Come on, another one. Why does everyone want to socialize with the cute cashier. The boy, Marco watching him from the corner of his eyes, looked startled. Marco wasn't. He knew the voice all too well.

"Ymir, I know you don't think I'm cute so don't bother," his strange childhood friend stood two people back from Mrs. Fubar. They lived on the same street together for nearly all their lives. None of their parents had felt like moving.

Ymir's girlfriend stood behind her. Even Marco, gay he was, thought she was cute. Her name was Christa, and she made the singing angels of heaven ugly. She had her arms wrapped around her as Ymir spoke, her small head peaking out from her girlfriend's towering frame.

She waved at Marco and he waved back. The boy stood, "Ymir?" he asked, a mixture of fear and curiosity his inflection.

"Jean!" she pronounced it like JEE-N, and the boy visibly winced, "What are you doing here?"

"Does everyone in this store know each other?" a new customer asked, and several people behind him nodded. They were also new. Sweet shops were more popular in the summer, when there were no holidays in which to pig out on, and the long summer months and summer vacation stretched ahead.

The regulars smiled or grinned, some even laughed. Marco was focused, however, on Jean and Ymir's conversation. "I was getting some candy," Ymir had left the line at this point, pressing a soft kiss to Christa's forehead and murmuring something to her, presumably telling her to save her spot. Ymir hated sweets with a passion, but Christa loved them, so they ended up coming here a lot.

Mrs. Fubar had left as well, sitting down near a pair of kids from the local high school, and talking surprisingly animatedly with them. They came here a lot, and Marco believed their names to be Sasha and Connie. They were a good match for Mrs. Fubar, that much was certain. They all seemed to be enjoying themselves very much.

He served the next few customers in a daze, trying to hear what Jean and Ymir were talking about. Jean talked about why he was there, and Ymir leaned over, and though it was irrational Marco was actually jealous, lesbian as Ymir was, and laughed something in his ear. Jean went red, and by red, he was red everywhere. His face, neck, ears, even his upper arms, the part Marco could see, the rest hidden by a Velvet Underground tee shirt.

Marco wanted that face to be for him, desperately. He never seemed to get the things he wanted. Unless, of course, you counted the sweets shop. He supposed there was that. But he guessed Jean would be far, far more sweeter than any candy.

The only other thing he caught was, "Jean, you hate peppermint," before the boisterous new customers from the back finally got to him. He had given Christa a swirl cupcake, a mixture of chocolate spreading into hazelnut for the base, and soft, fluffy, vanilla icing, piled high enough to look almost like whipped cream but much sweeter and heavier. He made every sweet himself, except for the name brand stuff like Jolly Ranchers, Skittles, and candy canes, that, in his opinion, every sweet store needed, in case a toddler came in who didn't know about "chocolate mousse" or "soufflé".

The new customers ordered an assortment of chocolate, hard candy, and one caramel cake pop. He wasn't too sure on the things, but they were extremely popular with the teenagers and other young adults. He preferred a more sophisticated form of cake himself.

By the time everyone had finished their orders, Jean and Ymir had stopped talking, as Marco realized with some measure of disappointment. It was the only way he was going to find out more about him, unless he asked himself, or he asked Ymir later. Neither sounded appealing; Jean would think him weird, and Ymir would laugh at him for his "man crush". She'd heard it on TV, and no matter how many times Marco explained a man crush wasn't actually liking a man like that, she referred it to anytime he liked someone, since he was gay. He still had war flashbacks to the time he was twelve and he told her. He said to keep it a secret, but she went and told everyone on the playground as a "joke". Needless to say, twelve year old Marco was crushed, and soon began to get bullied by the "tough" guys of the school. Ymir kicked their asses, apologized to him, and never breathed a word again, no matter what he told her, after he finally got over the betrayal, in his high school years. 

He must've told her all sorts of things about him and Reiner, and he was still grateful to her for listening. Those were his most embarrassing years, when he began having sex and had no idea who to talk to, still not ready to talk to his parents about it, and even if he had, he wouldn't want to talk about stuff like that. Plus, Reiner had wanted it to be a secret. So it was. But he needed someone else to talk to, so he talked to Ymir. He thanked everything she eventually found out she was gay as well, or such conversations would have been so awkward in retrospect. Her first girlfriend didn't work out either, both much too volatile, another short, blonde girl named Annie. Marco wasn't sure how they stayed together for so long, because they were both sarcastic little shits who'd use their powers against each other. When they fought, which was often, it was rough for everyone near them.

That was why Christa was such a good match, even though Marco had lightly teased Ymir back when they first started going out. Another short, blond girl, Ymir, he'd said, are you sure it's going to work out? But they worked well together, rarely having fights, and when they did, resolving them quickly.

Ymir moved back to Christa, who was picking her cupcake gently apart with her dainty mouth. There was a touch of vanilla on her lower lip, and Ymir licked it off. "I thought you didn't like sweets," Christa seemed to mouth, too much din in the room for Marco to hear clearly.

Ymir smirked, clearly saying, "No, but I like you." Christa blushed, and the two carried on. It was much too cute to watch, and Marco turned back to his station, only to be confronted with his own distraction.

"Hey," Jean said, a strange little smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. He seemed to think it looked cool, but to Marco it looked like he was holding back a sneeze. It was also adorable. Everything was adorable about the boy.

"Hey, Jean," he pronounced it like he heard Ymir do so, and Jean's smile disappeared, his face downturned into a pout.

"It's Jean. French, you know," He pronounced it JHA-N, with a soft shwoosh at the beginning.

"Ah, I'm sorry. Jean," he held out a hand, leaning over the counter and smiling. He certainly wasn't thinking about how sweaty and gross his hands were after the long day, certainly not (he was). Luckily, Jean didn't seem to mind, he only smiled back at him. Marco's teeth had a slight gap in the front, which he eventually had learned, after middle school, to not be self-conscious about. Learning not to be afraid to be gay, unfortunately, had taken much longer. But, he cared little how others viewed him anymore.

This was brought to his mind as he looked at Jean's straight teeth, all perfectly aligned in a row, and wondered vacantly whether he had braces once upon a time. He seemed so self-assured now, but maybe there was another story behind him. A middle school Jean with braces and a bad hairstyle phase that was a must for puberty popped, unbidding, into his train of thought.

Poor Jean didn't know a thing as Marco began to smile wider at him. He must've thought Marco was a strange, strange man. But all at once, Marco began to think of how different the two were. Amusing he thought of it because of teeth, but still. Marco was gay, and Jean was straight. He had no chance, and the promise he made himself weighed heavier than ever.

Jean rubbed at his undercut. Perhaps it was a nervous habit, but Marco's eyes were drawn to his slender neck. He wanted to bite into it, leave little marks that would make him blush every time he looked at the mirror. 

He was beginning to worry it was visible, how creepy he was, but no one but Jean was looking at him. And Jean wasn't even looking at him strangely, just softly. They were strangers, Marco reminded himself. He knew absolutely nothing about him. For some reason, his body just kept telling him otherwise.

"Nice to meet you. Marco, right?"

How did he know that? Had they met before? Had they had a fabulous one-night stand Marco couldn't remember?

He must've looked confused, for Jean tapped his own chest lightly. He looked down and noticed he was wearing his name badge. Smooth, Marco, real smooth.

"Ah, yeah, um…" real colloquial Marco, way to keep the conversation going.

"Well, I'd better go," Jean took the candy cane from his breast pocket, where he had wrapped it with its wrapper, albeit messily, again after eating a little. The covering for it was, of course, messy, because it had Jean's saliva all over it, and it must've gotten Jean's fingers all sticky and he unwrapped it once more, for he licked at them lightly.

If there was a God, or even multiple gods, why did they make him have to stand this? He was right there, licking at his fingers like a goddamn porn star with his goddamn pink and probably warm tongue, that probably also tasted of peppermint, and Marco had the largest boner he could ever remember having, because, good God.

Marco cleared his throat, a little too loudly, and Jean stopped, still bent over onto his fingers. He blushed, profusely, probably believing Marco thought it was disgusting. It was anything but, but he couldn't exactly tell him that in the middle of his store. Well, he could, because he couldn't get fired, but it certainly wouldn't go over well with everyone else there.

"Hah," he breathed over his fingers lightly, "Sorry," he dropped the hand down to his side.

Marco wanted to say something like, "no problem," or "it's cool, dude" or something like that, but he ended up staring awkwardly at him, not saying anything.

Jean shuffled awkwardly, hand rubbing his undercut again. "Well, I'll see you around then. Thanks for the food," he gestured to the candy cane. Thanks for letting me see you eat it, Marco internally thought.

"Well, bye then," he turned around and shuffled awkwardly out of the shop, stopped outside, and did a little wave to Marco. He cracked a grin and waved back.

And then, "Ah, isn't that cute! Someone's got the hots for Jeanie boy!"

He shot an unamused glare at Ymir, something he couldn't do very well, and watched Jean catch a cab while pretending he wasn't watching Jean catch a cab. Ymir started cackling, so he supposed it hadn't worked.

But yes, as Ymir put it, he had the hots for Jean. He buried his face in the crook of his elbow as he waited for the next customer to come. It was still red hot, and it only grew hotter as he remembered everything Jean did. The next customer who did come asked him if he was alright. He said yes, but he wasn't, because goddamn he was falling, and hard, for a boy with auburn eyes he'd barely met. And he wasn't even ashamed of it. 

Okay, maybe he was. But only a little bit.

**Author's Note:**

> What a world. More will (probably) follow
> 
> (jaws, jawbreakers) god, I'm horrible, what have I done


End file.
